A literal angel is rushing toward us. Long white-blonde hair falls down her back over a creamy sweater that’s hitting her mid-thigh and covering tight black leggings tucked into knee-high riding boots. Her pale cheeks are flushed red, and big doe eyes are locked on Izzy. She doesn’t even see me here, but there’s no way I’ve missed her. It feels like someone just smacked me with a two-by-four.
